Even though it had been months since they met, Rose could still not get a clear read on Oin Lightbringer. She could read Faerthurin, Amber, Jalerom, Ivan, and Jeminya fairly well – understanding and agreeing with them were completely separate matters, though – but not the one with whom she found herself agreeing with most on certain things. It wouldn't bother her so much if he hadn't also been the one snooping through their dreams and saving their lives more times than not, even bringing Jalerom back from the dead once. Oin held so much power over them, and she didn't like not understanding it.

Looking at him from across the Heroes' Feast that he always dutifully prepared for them, she wondered… why? The others were chatting away – Ravvas had said something and Amber snapped at him, Fae was trying to teach Hana how to properly eat soup, Arkoth was watching the door and chatting with Jalerom – and despite all the noise and the possible conversations he could have, she noticed that Oin didn't so much as blink in a direction that didn't contain his meal. He could have eaten in his room for all the care he seemed to have for the company around him, but he didn't.

Why?

Studying her surroundings had always been part of her nature, and since he surrounded her a lot, she tended to study him. But what does one do when even though you study, you still fail the test?

He could feel Rose staring at him again. What, he wondered, could she want? It mattered little to him, but he was still not fully used to the feeling of being watched, so the goosebumps up and down his arms from her stare were uncomfortable.

Perhaps she is trying to read me, he thought, chewing his prime rib soundly, She does have a proclivity towards observing before speaking. But about what would we speak? He thought back on their most recent journey through Phlegethos and recalled that she had been incredibly angry at Glasya, though for what particular reason he was not certain. Because she was playing with them? Because she was Jeminya's mother and the reason her soul was aimed toward Baator to begin with? Because she had reminded Rose of her complacency regarding their sabotage in Dis?

Any and all of those answers could be correct, but Oin was not sure which one or to what degree. And unless she volunteered the information, he doubted he would ever find out. Both he and she were not the talkative sort unless there was something crucial to say. So he sipped his cider and shoveled mashed potatoes into his mouth in relative unease. He knew her green eyes were still fixed on him, but he would not show any signs of discomfort, even if it killed him.

Questions of Oin Lightbringer still haunted Rose later that night to the point where it kept her from sleep. Shiloh was snoozing easily, his legs twitching as he chased rabbits in his dreams, but Rose just lay on her side and stared into the darkness of the room. A chill came over her and she decided to light a fire in her room as the blanket and even Shiloh seemed to be failing at keeping her warm, so she rose and stumbled carefully into the dark to find some wood.

Her efforts were in vain; she was out. She opened the door and poked her head out to see Arden, who turned his head toward her.

"Where is the firewood?" she asked.

"Dining room, miss," he replied, pointing down the hall. Rose nodded and began padding softly towards where they shared their meals. She disliked walking without Shiloh, but she disliked waking him from a peaceful slumber even more, so when she saw shadows on the walls of the hallway leading up to the dining room, she did not have her dog's fur to cling to for reassurance. Carefully, she tiptoed into the room only to find Oin sitting on a cushion in font of a roaring fire. He did not look like he was relaxing. Instead, his legs were crossed tightly in front of him, his hands were on his knees, and his back was rigid facing her.

Curious as she was, she refused to ask what he was doing for fear of interrupting and quietly walked around the long table to where the firewood lay in a holder in the corner. However, he got the better of her.

"Rose," he acknowledged deeply from his stance.

"Oin," she said back, trying to listen for any irregularities in his voice. It did not take long to find one as a much higher pitched voice seemed to come from him as well.

"Hello there, Rose!" the lilting voice of Imontillo – or rather Olidammara – called to her, and Rose dashed over to where the dwarf sat so she could see his face. Indeed, it was as she expected; the left half of his face was his normal, stoic expression whereas the right side was twisted into a wide-eyed smile. Her jaw dropped a little in shock; she'd never seen anything like this on Oin before.

"Sit on down!" Olidammara's voice poured from the right side of Oin's lips, and Rose limply obliged. "Oin here was just telling me everything that's been going on! Some juicy stuff, I must say. Don't worry, my lips are sealed!"

"How can you communicate with him?" she asked bluntly, and the left side of Oin's face replied.

"I am a member of his clergy, and he has spent many a decade with me. In my mind, in my presence, and in my magic. We are linked… for better or worse… by the curse laid upon me," he replied.

"So I can visit aaaaaaanytime I want!" Olidammara said, "And keep Oin company! He gets lonely you know." Internally, Rose rolled her eyes, but she situated herself perpendicular to Oin so that her right side faced the fire and her left side was near his knee. Olidammara continued, "So what's keeping you up, missy?"

"I was cold," she said bluntly.

"Psh, you're no fun, Rose Emeraldsong! But then Ehlonna never was one much for fun anyways," the god's voice commented, and Rose was reminded of the mask that Jalerom's mother wore as an assassin of Olidammara. The twisted duality certainly fit Oin's face at the moment.

"So, what can I do for you? You were staring holes through Oin earlier and since I know he won't talk, maybe I can answer questions for you!" Olidammara chirped, and the Oin side of his face scowled. Rose saw her chance and took it.

"Why is Oin here with us?"

"Oh, that's easy!" the god said, "I told him to stay initially. But now, for some reason he seems to like being here!"

Rose gaped at Oin, who turned his face away so that she could not see the left side. Olidammara continued, "He gets attached like a little puppy but gods help you if you make him mad! In fact, this one time—"

"That's. Enough." Oin growled darkly, and the Olidammara half of his body shrugged.

"So uptight. Loves keeping his precious little secrets, even though I'm sure your friends would be happy to hear them," the god teased, and Rose could almost see Oin's hackles raise. If it were anyone else other than Oin, she may have laughed, but she also understood what it was like to be driven by your deity's will without as much say as you would like in the matter.

"Do you still want to be here?" she asked.

There was silence, even from Olidammara who seemed to be waiting impatiently for him to speak, before Oin answered, "I do, yes. Otherwise I would not be."

"Good job for admitting it!" the god said, "Yup, it's true, I didn't command him to come here, he just did! So, do you trust him a little more now?"

At this, Oin turned his full face over to Rose and the left half studied her intensely.

"More so, yes," Rose replied honestly, "But if you pull anything like the nightmares again—"

"I have no intention," Oin cut her off slowly, "of repeating those experiences. With one possible exception, if the opportunity arises." Rose had a pretty good idea who he meant, but Olidammara confirmed it with a very unsubtle loud whisper, "I think he means the Drow!" Oin rolled his eye and turned his head back toward the fire.

"If that will be all?" he asked Rose, and she nodded and stood. She grabbed a couple of logs and turned to go when she heard Olidammara chirp, "Sweet dreams!" She whirled around and glared at the smiling deity's face before turning and stomping back to her room.

Once she returned to her room, she placed the firewood in the little stove in the corner and immediately a magical flame sprung to life, engulfing the wood. The heat that radiated perfectly suited her, and she slipped into bed next to Shiloh, who was no longer chasing rabbits but being scratched by a dream someone if his jerking leg and his flopped-out tongue was any indication. Rose closed her eyes, ready to sleep, and sighed.

He's not a threat. For now. And it appears that… he needs us. Interesting.

With some answers to some questions floating through her mind, she was able to finally sleep.